


The Sinister Barn at Greengage Farm

by nonnymouse



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Bad Ending, Bondage, F/F, F/M, Gangbang, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonnymouse/pseuds/nonnymouse
Summary: Nancy Drew is investigating the mysterious disappearance of heiress Iris Rivers when she's discovered and tied up by a group of ruffians! Has the clever detective met a trap she can't escape?
Relationships: Nancy Drew/Original Female Character(s), Nancy Drew/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28
Collections: FFA Kink, Unofficial FFA Unanon Collection





	The Sinister Barn at Greengage Farm

**Author's Note:**

> Period typical, of course, is difficult to define when it comes to Nancy Drew. There have been so many different lines, and even the classic books are updated every ten years or so when they're reissued. I shot for the feel of the 60s releases of the yellow-spined books, with the action being set vaguely in the 1930s.

Something glinted in the corner of the barn when the beam of Nancy's flashlight swept over it. She crept closer, sure this might be another clue in the disappearance of Ilona Rivers. "What have we here?" she asked herself, picking up a woman's locket.

"My thoughts exactly," said a voice behind her. She whirled around, her flashlight revealing Mr. Snyder, the foreman of Greengage Farm!

Before the clever girl could resist, the man had her tied hand and foot with a length of sturdy rope. He'd easily overpowered her with his well-muscled arms, and now he left her resting on the floor of the barn as he went to rustle the rest of the men.

Nancy could see the tools hanging on the wall of the barn. Any one of them might free her! She'd been bound tightly, hands to ankles so she formed a triangle. But surely, she could use her knees to push herself along. She made a mighty effort, though she never seemed to move more than an inch.

"Look at this sow wriggle," she heard an admiring voice say behind her, and suddenly she was being flipped over and the lights in the barn turned on.

Six men stood above her, weathered workmen with hard eyes and harder muscles. "Bull, find her car and hide it," Mr. Snyder ordered, leaving five of them against one helpless teenage girl.

"Mr. Snyder," Nancy said, always willing to be polite in a pinch, but Mr. Snyder hushed her.

"There's only one rich girl we take orders from and that's not you, Miss Drew. As a matter of fact, I'd reckon our mistress will appreciate us teaching you a lesson about trespassing."

Two of the men hauled her up onto her knees, leaving her bowed backwards by the force of the rope securing her hands to her ankles. Mr. Snyder made a clucking noise with his tongue. "Would you look at that? All this skulking around in barns has left that smart blouse and skirt filthy. Why, I'd say they're ruined completely. There's not to do but cut them up for scraps."

Nancy trembled as Mr. Boudin, the rustler, pulled a wicked knife from his pocked and knelt beside her. With confident strokes, he cut her white blouse with the Peter Pan collar to pieces, and her tweed pencil skirt shortly followed! She shivered before them in her lace-trimmed brassiere and panties, but then he cut those away, too. "Would you look at that?" he said. "What a perfect set of titties."

She'd never heard the word before, but she understood well what he meant. If she hadn't, she'd have understood when he cupped a rough hand round one of her breasts, tilting it up as he put his mouth around her nipple. She gasped at the feeling of him sucking on the tender bud. Then one of the other men grabbed her other breast, kneading it roughly.

"Let's see what else she's got," one of the men said, and Nancy found herself back on her belly as they redid the ropes to release her legs. She struggled, but they held her down so they could study her private places.

"That's a ripe peach if I ever saw one," the hostler said, and a finger stroked along the split of her—of her peach. "Look at those red curls! They make her look swollen and ready already."

Nancy wasn't sure what he meant, but the finger that was touching her didn't withdraw. It kept stroking along that intimate seam between her legs, sometimes swirling in tight circles at the tip. It was quite a queer sensation, and Nancy found herself squirming as the exploration continued. Then the finger pushed into her, and Nancy went stock still.

"That's enough," Mr. Snyder said, and Nancy went limp with relief. "I'm the foreman here, and I'm the one that gets her virgin cunt."

Nancy gasped at the vulgarity. Soon though, his coarse words were the least of her concerns as something thick brutally split her open.

"Someone shut her up," Mr. Snyder ordered, and one of the men shoved a stained rag into Nancy's mouth. She tried to spit it out, but another wrapped his bandana round it to hold the gag in place.

With Nancy subdued, Mr. Snyder was free to continue apace. He pounded into the slender girl, so many decades his junior and lacking all the experience of those years. He rode her with the surety of a man who'd been comfortable in the saddle since he was even younger than she was. His hands commanded her body, pushing her into the position that was most comfortable for him, her hips jetted back into the air and legs splaying wide. Once he had her where he wanted her his hands were free to roam, groping her breasts with abandon. "She's a fine sow, boys!" he called out, slapping her thrice on the rear before filling her body with a wetness it wouldn't do to contemplate.

He stood, crossing 'round in front of her. Nancy watched as he tucked his parts back into his worn blue jeans. He nodded at her with what felt like approval. "Have at her, boys," he ordered, leaning back to watch with one foot propped against the barn wall.

She didn't know who entered her next, the second intrusion as unwelcome as the first. Two more of them had her like that before Mr. Boudin circled around to the front. He pulled a milking stool over. "I want her to get me ready for my turn," he said, and the other men helped him rearrange her so that she was draped over the stool.

Mr. Boudin knelt before her so that he could look in her eyes. He swept some of her lovely titian hair back, as her sweat was making it hang in a limp mass in her face. "This is how it works, girl. I'm going to take out the gag and then I'm going to put my cock in your mouth. You're going to keep your mouth open and not say a word. I feel any of those sparkling white teeth on my cock, then I'm grabbing one of the pairs of pliers hanging on that wall over there. You understand?" he asked, and Nancy nodded.

It was a relief to get the taste of the gag out of her mouth and breathe a few precious breaths of fresh air. But then Mr. Boudin took out his parts—he'd called it a cock—and Nancy was plugged from both ends.

It was a rough thing, having a cock in her peach and her mouth. She was balanced helplessly between them, nothing but the creaky milking stool keeping her from falling. She wished she at least at her hands to steady herself, but they were still tied behind her back. Mr. Boudin's hands gripped her head, tugging on it ruthlessly so he could force his cock deeper, while the other man taking her held her hips rough enough to bruise.

Keeping her teeth out of the way was all Nancy could do. As much as she hated what was happening, she couldn't imagine what Mr. Boudin might do!

Mr. Boudin was having his turn at her peach when the one called Bull returned from disposing of her car. "Ms. Benson saw me with the girl's roadster," he told Mr. Snyder, and Nancy felt a thrill of hope shoot up from her toes. It made her peach clench tight around Mr. Boudin's cock, and the thrill quickened in her belly, his thrusts suddenly feeling like an almost pleasurable thing. "I told her we had a trespasser, and she said she'd worry about it after her dinner."

It might not be long before someone rescued her! Even if it was Ms. Benson, who Nancy suspected in the disappearance of her younger sister.

Mr. Boudin finished as the others, with that odd sensation of wetness. "Your turn," he told Bull. "You get her last."

Nancy couldn't help quailing when all of their eyes were on her bare, filthy body. She could feel Bull looking at her sore, reddened peach. "None of youse even touched the best part!" he exclaimed. He fingers pressed into her peach, which they had certainly touched plenty, but then touched her in an unmentionable place. Nancy gasped in outrage!

"I think I need another go," Mr. Snyder said, opening his pants so he could take her mouth. She'd almost rather the disgusting gag again, so she could scream into it freely as Bull took her in the most violating way yet. "Figured out why we call him Bull, yet?" Mr. Snyder asked her, petting her hair as he thrust leisurely into his mouth.

"Because he's hung like one!" one of the roughs yelled out.

He certainly felt bigger, but Nancy had just assumed that was his choice of hole.

"If you're feeling sore about it," Mr. Snyder said, "Bull is probably being the kindest of us all. It's likely one of us already got you pregnant. Soon you'll be a fat sow with your own little piglet. No one will ever look at you again and think you're a respectable girl. You came here in your fancy car thinking you were better than us, but we knew you were a little animal beneath those fashionable clothes."

Nancy had to look away from him. Her eyes landed on the pigs, who'd been ignoring her plight the whole time, happily playing amongst themselves. That's all she was to these men, just another animal on the farm. It was easier to dwell on her degradation than the horrible thought she might be pregnant. What would her father and Hannah say? Would she be one of those girls who was sent quietly away, said to live with an aunt in the country?

Mr. Snyder finished with her a second time, and she realized what the wetness was as a jet of thick, white fluid exited his cock to cover her face.

Bull was still working on her, huffing as he rocked her back and forth on the stool, which was creaking alarmingly. Like many of the men, he seemed to get a particular pleasure out of roughly handling her breasts, squeezing them and until his shorn nails were digging into the soft flesh.

When he finished, Nancy felt no sudden surge of optimism that they were done. Her mind was not thinking of ways to escape. Every part of her was sore and dirty and all she wanted was her long-gone mother to hug her and tell her she was all right.

"My, this is a mess," a cultured voice said, and Nancy craned her head upward to see the poised Ms. Benson studying her with a critical eye.

Nancy had thought poorly of Ms. Benson when she'd arrived earlier that day. Nancy was a modern girl, truly, but a divorced woman living on her own had inspired within her a certain natural wariness. What woman would live openly with such shame, without properly remarrying?

With a jolt, Nancy realized she would have to tell Ned and hope he offered to marry her. If she were pregnant, the wedding would need to be as soon as possible to conceal that the child might not be Ned's.

"Take her up to the house," Ms. Benson ordered Mr. Snyder. "She needs a bath. I'll call Dr. Thompson to see her."

Nancy would cry with relief, but it seemed she'd already cried at some point during her ordeal and had no tears left.

Mr. Snyder cut her bonds before lowering her into the bath, but Nancy had no urge to flee. Not when the warm bath was everything she wanted.

He left, and Ms. Benson entered, having changed into her night-rail and robe. Nancy supposed she didn't want to risk getting her clothing wet.

"Let me help you, dear," she said kindly, thoroughly scrubbing Nancy with a washcloth and a cake of soap scented like lilacs. It reminded Nancy of being a child, bathed nightly by Hannah, and she began to relax, releasing the fear that had clenched her tight. "There's a good girl," Ms. Benson said, helping her duck her head in the water so her hair could be scrubbed.

"I'm afraid the men in my employ are a rough sort. You can't expect men of our class to get their hands dirty, of course."

"Of course," Nancy echoed. It did make sense, of a sort.

"Did they touch you so very harshly?" she asked.

Had she not arrived in time to see Bull penetrating her in a place best left unsaid? "They used me," Nancy whispered, afraid to say the truth. But it needed to be said if the perpetrators were to be punished and handed over to the cops. "They used me as a man uses his wife."

"Oh, my," said Ms. Benson, who had been a wife and knew of such things. She rinsed Nancy's hair with a pitcher of cool water. "They touched you here?" she confirmed, one slender finger stroking along Nancy's peach, so light Nancy assumed she hadn't meant to actually touch, just point.

Nancy nodded.

"What a terrible initiation to womanhood," she said sympathetically. Her finger pushed into Nancy, and Nancy froze with fear. "Mine was the same way. My husband owned this farm originally, you know, and he never had respect for the fact I was gently bred. I made sure my dear sister Iris's initiation was a gentle thing, but then she tried accusing me to Mr. Snyder, and she had to be sent to the asylum to recover from her breakdown. Fortunately, she'd been set to inherit a tidy sum from our mother, who had disinherited me after the divorce. A portion of the money is set to ensure she receives the finest attentions in care."

Her fingers were gentler than the men's touches, and more focused on those tight swirls. Nancy had grown relaxed and loose in the water, but now something within her had tightened. Ms. Benson used the fingers of her other hand to pluck one of Nancy's nipples, and she found herself coming undone, reaching a climax she hadn't suspected existed.

A knock sounded at the door, and Ms. Benson let in a man with wire-rimmed spectacles, dressed in a three-piece suit.

"And who is our patient, today?" he asked.

"This is Nancy Boudin, a niece of one of my men. Sent by her mother to learn to be a milkmaid, but I'm afraid she's caused quite a stir and can't stay."

"Oh?" he asked.

"I suspect her of nymphomania and lesbianism," Ms. Benson said crisply. "If you'll inspect her, you'll see she's enticed every man on the farm. She might be pregnant even now. I'm afraid she needs your sort of help, Doctor."

"My, my," he said. Nancy spread her legs when he pushed on her knees, feeling helpless to deny a doctor in the course of his duty. He looked at her poor ruined peach and nodded. "Ms. Benson, I don't know if I've ever known a woman with worse luck. First your sister, now this poor girl. But don't you worry. We'll provide her with the finest treatment and care. Unfortunately, all you can do for a girl with nymphomania is keep her satisfied, but our orderlies are trained with all the latest tools and techniques."

With that, Nancy fainted dead away, and the doctor drove her off to her new home in the asylum, where she made many men happy indeed.

And there she found the missing Iris Rivers, another case solved. But no one knew, since they'd become preoccupied by the case of the missing Nancy Drew.


End file.
